


Under the Moon and the Stars

by BkZa555



Series: Under Fate’s Wings [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BkZa555/pseuds/BkZa555
Summary: "—Ryoji," He stops Ryoji before the other could lie. "Something's bothering you."Not a question, but a statement. Ryoji keeps his eyes steady before he sighs and places his forehead on Makoto's shoulder. He then murmurs. "…Even after all of this, even after what we've done – you've done – I still couldn't… it feels like we really shouldn't be staying together like this. I feel like this is a mistake.""It isn't a mistake," Makoto murmurs. He knows Ryoji means Makoto loving him, and not the other way around, that he's considering to be an error. He doesn't understand the occasional spells of doubts that would sometimes overcome Ryoji like waves of the black sea that would swallow him up in his self-made misery, and he wants to reassure Ryoji that this isn't a mistake. "I've never been happier."//Or, How the Fate binds Life and Death together, tying them like the moon and the stars that shimmer and shine together in the night sky.
Relationships: Arisato Minato/Mochizuki Ryoji, Mochizuki Ryoji/Persona 3 Protagonist, Mochizuki Ryoji/Yuuki Makoto
Series: Under Fate’s Wings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151357
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	Under the Moon and the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happened when I can't sleep, and I sit six straight hours finishing this fic. No regrets, tho! I like this pair!
> 
> Also, sorry in advance for any typo, will correct it soon as I am fully awake :D

Mochizuki Ryoji is a marvel.

The first time Makoto laid his eyes upon him, he could see that Ryoji is not just this charming, skirt-chasing prince. He's _more_ – kind, always so gentle, always so considerate. And he cares like no other, his smile so warm, his fingers cold yet not biting. Makoto could feel a strange pull, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from those striking sapphire blue that seems so captivating, yet so sorrowful.

And, as it turns out, Ryoji is very, _very_ good at reading him.

Makoto has never been one for words – his ability to communicate his feelings, if he even has one at the time, is _subpar_. Or, by Takeba's words, _minimal_. He only says things that are necessary, mentioning only those that would let others glean into his heart as little as possible. His body language says enough, he thinks, even though Junpei keeps insisting that his blank stares help with _nothing_ but adding more confusion to them when they try to understand him.

But Ryoji? The boy reads him like a book, knowing what he wants to say – what he wants to _mean_ – and thinking about the same thing in the same direction he is, and he is mildly surprised to realize that he doesn't find it creepy at all. Junpei does, and even Sanada; Ryoji keeps finishing his words, and he would nod, and the two of them would always note at how quickly they understand each other, as if they've been friends for a decade and not a few days.

And it feels just like that – as if he's talked to Ryoji many times before, understand his thoughts as if they are his own, knowing what he's feeling as if it's him who's experiencing those emotions. And Ryoji seems _delighted_ to know that their understandings of each other are mutual. And frankly? Makoto's also glad that they could understand each other like they are a part of a whole.

…That's probably some creepy thinking.

"What are you thinking?" Ryoji asks, two hot cups of coffee in his hands. He pushes one into Makoto's, and he opens the cap to see his favourite – black. He has never told anyone his preference, so— "I asked the coffee maker. He said you always ordered black."

…Oh. "Oh."

"Come on, don't be so surprised!" Ryoji laughs lightly, placing his arm on Makoto's already hunched shoulder and pushing him down _just_ a little more. He grunts, but doesn't resist much. "So! The old couple in the bookstore. When did you know them?"

"A while," He says, taking a careful sip, the bitter taste of caffeine shaking his body awake just a little more. He stifles a yawn, rubbing at his eyes to rid himself of the sleepiness that seems to be here more often than not. "Why?"

"Just curious. You don't seem like the friendly sort," Ryoji comments, waving his cup of coffee almost carelessly. He then bends down a little, smiling gently. "But I'm glad you made lots of friends. To live is to connect, right?"

"I guess," He mumbles, looking up at the sky and the cloud lazily floating along the invisible lines of the wind. Another sip, and he glances Ryoji's way. "Just curious, but—"

"—Why did I befriend you, right?" Ryoji says with a small laughter bubbling out of his chest, the sound so warm and so kind, making Makoto shivers a little under his skin. When he nods, those blue eyes soften just a bit more. "You just _seem_ cold, but you're actually really kind and warm. I like you since the moment we met, you know."

"…Ryoji, that's—"

"—Creepy as hell, yes, I do realize that," The boy finishes again with a grin. Makoto absently thinks that, if their other friends are here, they would've probably found the way they (or rather, Ryoji) complete the unfinished sentences to be really disturbing, to a degree. And yet again, Makoto really doesn't mind it. He likes the feeling of having someone who knows him well enough to allow him his silence.

"Well," He says, his breath pushing the steam rising from his cup away just a little. "It might sound strange, but I do feel the same."

"A complete sentence out of you!" Ryoji teases, nudging his rib.

He growls and scoots away. "Shut _up_."

"But that makes me so happy," Ryoji says softly with a warm smile that Makoto likes a bit more than he should, for someone who's a _friend_. He shoves the thoughts away as Ryoji continues. "I'm glad you feel the same way I do. If you don't, I think I'm going to be sad."

He snorts and takes the last sip before tossing the cup right into the bin. "But I do, so don't."

_Don't be sad, because I like seeing you happy._

But those words he doesn't say reach Ryoji anyway, because his smile grows as bright as the morning sun as he laughs, light and free.

"Yeah! Me too!"

* * *

Over time, they've grown closer, if such a notion is possible – they would often spend the time together, alone, at Chagall Café or the arcades. It's mostly Ryoji who does the talking, while Makoto just keeps his words to himself, his expression as neutral as he's always had.

There's something that always draws him closer to Ryoji, inexorably, absolutely. Like the gravity itself that would put his feet on the ground, he's drawn, like moth to the flame. He feels calm and content, and even a little _happy_ , at the notion, something he hasn't been feeling in a long, long while. He doesn't mind it, not when Ryoji's smile is as bright as the sun itself, when his touch is cold and soft like fallen snow in the middle of winter, when his words are warm like the spring wind.

Their hands would brush, sometimes, with how much Ryoji moves during his many self-completed conversations, and they would pull their hands back simultaneously. In all honesty, he doesn't mind the feeling; it feels nice, sending little sparks of flame and shivers up his fingers and straight through his chest, that would make him carve for more.

Unexplainable trust stemming from invisible ties that they share – that is what Ryoji said, once, during one of their visits to the Café. Makoto asked him, _what do you mean by that?_ And Ryoji answers, with a finger to his lips, his eyes glinting with kindness, _I don't know, but I feel like you and I, we're tied together. Like the story of the Red Strings of Fate, you know?_

He knows of the story. God tying two people together through an invisible string that would bound their hearts and souls into one. A romantic notion, not something he would expect from Ryoji, since half the time in school he's spent chasing the skirts of every living, breathing girls. So, he asked, _do you mean that you feel like we're tied, like lovers?_ And the boy's answer is as fast as his beating heart as he says, as if it's the truth that is undeniable and absolute; _yes._

It's been two days since that conversation, and Makoto isn't quite sure what to do – he knows what he _wants_ to do; while the notion of being lovers, and to a boy, no less, is new, he feels like it's the most natural thing in the world. He feels like it's what he had always wanted to do, from the moment – he isn't quite sure when, but it feels like since a lifetime ago.

Something that is right, that fits… and something that makes his heart soars and makes his stomach sinks, all in equal measures, at the same time.

Still, he doesn't know what he should do or say, which is something rare – he's always been calculated, rational. Emotions are luxury and curses he often doesn't have, and when he does, he usually hates it – emotions are irrational, they dance at the edge and jump into his brain with little warnings, giving his thoughts a halt that would make his body twitch and his lips curl in annoyance. But this time, it's different – feeling something like constant contentment, unexplained, and sometimes even _attraction_ , is very new, and he has no experience to speak of, no guidelines to lean on, nothing to give him an _idea_ of what to do.

But Ryoji has that figured out for him anyways – he's more or less dragged him towards the shore not too far from the station, where there is nothing but the seagulls and the waves. His hand is as soft as cold as it has always been, his touch sending little tingles up and down his spine. When he puts him on the railing of the pier and leans against the railing, he gives him a bright, bright smile that would drown his sorrows and his doubts away.

And then, he says, "Are you thinking about that Red Strings of Fate, Makoto?"

"…Yeah," He nods, his eyes looking towards the setting sun, its orange hue glistening across the gentle waves that crash upon the shore. He tries not to look Ryoji's way. "…I don't know why, but—"

"—I'm drawn to you, too," Ryoji says, his voice so calm, so gentle. When Makoto shift his gaze back, the boy is smiling gently, his face uncomfortably close, the edge of his scarf brushing against his arm. Then, Ryoji whispers, a sad glint in his eyes. "I don't know why either, but… I feel like it's right, and at the same time, it's _wrong_. Like I shouldn't be here, I like shouldn't have said anything to you—"

"I feel the same," He quickly says, stopping Ryoji's rambling, a hand firm on his cold arm. The breeze ruffles at their hair, and Makoto thinks he's _smiling_ , even before his brain register it. He doesn't try to hide it, however. "Not the _this is wrong_ part."

"…Are you sure, though?" He murmurs. "We're both guys – of course, that doesn't bother me, but people might look at us, at _you_ , weirdly, not to mention that I'm the guy that has been shamelessly chasing any girl with a pulse—"

"You care," _about me more than you're saying, and I know you did those things mostly for the thrill, and not with any real thoughts behind your actions,_ is what he says and does not say, his gaze firm on those pool of shimmering blue that seem to pull him in deeper until he's drowning in the biting cold of winter and caressing his skin with gentleness of fresh snow that hasn't hardened just yet.

"…You're too trusting, you know that?" He says with a small laughter. "But, I don't know, I feel like I'm not good enough, like this is a mistake I'll never be able to undo – I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Makoto says. He has never seen Ryoji like this, pain in his eyes and discomfort in his heart as he pushes the words through his lips like the world would fall and break into a thousand pieces if he doesn't. His grip tightens on the boy's arm as he continues, deliberately wearing his heart on his sleeve, this time. "I know you won't. We'll be fine."

Ryoji blinks, shifting his eyes away and to the sun that's sinking past the horizon that spans beyond what they could see. Then, he smiles to the wind and to the fading light. "…I like you."

Makoto smiles back, the motion coming to him as easy as breathing. "Me too."

* * *

He is actually a bit _peeved_ that absolutely _none_ of his friends think it's weird that they're dating.

Takeba and Junpei are saying little to nothing regarding the change. Makoto is not one for public displays, but whenever Ryoji holds his hand, he doesn't pull away. And whenever that happens, Aigis would look murderously at them (actually, at Ryoji alone, he thinks), and Junpei would cast him an amused glance while Takeba would go off and squeal with Yamagishi about it later during lunch.

He asked them, once, after two days of that. Junpei said, _I mean, you are kind of couple-like since the second day already?_ While Takeba would giggle and pat his shoulder before saying, _I mean, it took you a while to hold hand in public, but we_ (what the hell did she mean by _we?_ There're _more people_ thinking that he and Ryoji were a couple _before?_ ) _have been expecting this for a while, you know? So it came as no surprise to us._

He's annoyed by that, while Ryoji's having a good laugh, saying that their attractions are probably much more obvious than they thought, which Makoto has to begrudgingly agree. Still, their _dating_ changes absolutely _nothing_ about their relationship – they would hang out after school, share lunches sometimes (Ryoji would say that this is probably why people get the right idea the first time), and Ryoji would talk up a storm about even the most mundane of things and make everything sounds _interesting_.

Before the Kyoto trip, Ryoji visits the dorm, following him and Junpei back to play on the latter's consoles while he plans to go on ahead back to his room, but not before Ryoji pulls him back slightly by the wrist, his fingers tender and cold, as he leans in to whisper into his ear, "I'll see you in your room later. Don't fall asleep just yet, okay?"

He could feel heat creeping up his face, and that's probably not a very good sign. He throws Junpei the dirtiest glare he could've mustered and silences Takeba and Yamagishi with a growl, but his anger (and probably embarrassment) has already subsided when he turns to look into those sapphire blue eyes that shimmer and shine like ocean under the sun, sincerity and gentleness seeping through Ryoji's touch and straight into his bones.

He clears his throat and grumbles under his breath, and when Ryoji eggs him (with a bit more enthusiasm than maybe he should, the bastard) on a little, he sighs and murmurs a little louder, just enough for Ryoji and him alone to hear. "…Don't take too long."

He could _feel_ Ryoji laughing his butt off as he races up the stairs and back to his room. He sighs and quickly escapes into the confine of his room, throwing the bag and the blazer onto the desk and undoing his bowtie. After he's sure that he's alone and that his thoughts are with him, the first thing he does it to sit down and half-groans into his hand.

He can't believe he just said that…!

"…I'm fucked," He says to himself, looking at the wooden floor through the gaps between his fingers and grumbling against the skin of his palm. He said that without thinking, and now that he properly has the time to think… that comes out as if he's _horny_.

 _Fuck_.

He has never lost control like this before, and if Junpei figured out what he's just said, he's never going to hear the end of it. After a few more seconds of sighing, he leans back onto the mattress, facing the ceiling with his legs dangling off the edge. He… couldn't really deny that he wasn't saying the truth (He does want to spend more time with Ryoji, okay? Good _god_ what is _wrong_ with him—), but at the same time, he could have worded that better and made it sounds less like he's a lovesick high school girl.

…The only thing wrong in that sentence is the _girl_ part. He just has to give up and admit to himself, at this point, that he's probably more head-over-heels than he's previously thought.

He decides to close his eyes and mulls over his feelings a little, since he's got all the time in the world and not a thing to give a fuck to (school is too damn easy, and there's no more Shadows except in Tartarus to fight), not to mention that he probably should've gotten this… _crush_ sorted out. Rather, this _love_ , not a crush, since Ryoji has already made sure they _are_ a couple—

Love—

 _Holy shit,_ he thinks, still draping his arm over his eyes as he backtracks and focuses at the word that just pops up into his mind without difficulty. It comes as easy to him as breathing, and that irks him as much as it answers all of his question. _I like you_ is probably a tamer way to spell out his feelings now, and _this is new_ and he has _zero_ idea what to—

"You're overthinking it again, Makoto," That soft voice jolts him out of his thoughts, and he pulls his arm away from his eyes only to see Ryoji _right on top of him_. He's too shell-shocked to realize the position they're in, compromising and inappropriate, as Ryoji says with a bright, sun-like smile. "Did you miss me?"

There is a second of stillness, where all he could see and feel is his frantic heartbeat and Ryoji's breath tickling his hair and the way the bed dips under their combined weights. And then, he thinks he's the one who makes an indignant voice that falls in between a yelp and a dying cat, scrambling further into the mattress and propping himself up against the wall.

Ryoji laughs, putting both hands up. "Sorry, sorry! I knocked and called you, but you didn't hear me, so I just did that. That's probably a bit too forward?"

Makoto places a hand over his own chest before hissing, trying and failing to push the damn traitorous blush that's forcing its way up his face away. " _Yes_ , that's _too forward_ , damn it—"

"Sorry," Ryoji says again, sitting down on the bed near his leg. "So this is your room. You know… I feel like I've been here before, countless of times. But that's strange – I _know_ this is the first time I'm here, and yet it feels so… familiar. Nostalgic."

Ryoji's face falls after that, deep-seated pain clear in his beautiful pair of shimmering blue, his hands tugging the scarf closer to his face as he looks down at the ground. Makoto has seen this sometimes, when they talked. He'd fall silent and think over somethings he doesn't quite know what, but he would look just like this, troubled by ghosts that don't exist.

Makoto reluctantly reaches for his hand, interlacing their fingers lightly. When Ryoji looks his way, Makoto asks slowly. "…Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Ryoji shakes his head with a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I just… I don't know, I feel like the closer I am to you, the more pain I'm going to cause you, and I don't want that. I don't want to hurt you—"

He snorts. "You could never, Ryoji."

"…It's strange," He murmurs, tightening his fingers around Makoto's a little. "I'm drawn towards you, and I feel like I belong here, by your side, with you. But – this feeling in my chest… it hurts to breathe; it hurts to think. I don't want to lose you. I don't _ever_ want to lose you."

"Ryoji," He breathes the boy's name softly as he scoots over until they're sitting side by side, their knees touching lightly. He puts his hand over Ryoji's, this time, and pulls it up, covering it with both of his own, warming the cold fingers under his palm. When the boy looks at him, he offers Ryoji a smile. "Neither do I. I share your sentiment."

"I probably shouldn't have said anything," He mumbles, trying to pull his hand away. When Makoto stops him, Ryoji breathes with some degree of reluctance that makes his heart aches. "Makoto, I—I think… I probably shouldn't have said anything about my feelings. I probably shouldn't have done anything—"

"Ryoji," He says again, and places a hand on his cheek, wiping away a single drop of tear that has slipped past Ryoji's eyelashes. Ryoji looks surprised as his eyes shimmer and shine, so brightly and so captivating, like lapis lazuli of the legends. "I _want_ this, too. So… don't run away. We'll deal with it together, whatever it is."

Without thinking over his actions, Makoto leans in to kiss him.

Ryoji is a little reluctant, at first, but when Makoto pulls him closer with an arm around his neck, the boy seems to have lost whatever hesitation he's having, and he recuperates with such passion that it takes his breath away. He opens his mouth, welcoming Ryoji's surprisingly warm tongue in as he tastes and explores his mouth, leaving no place untouched.

He moans before he could stop himself, and Ryoji slips off the bed before pushing him back down onto the mattress, mimicking their positions from a few minutes prior, only this time with no distance between them, their lips locked tight and his air stolen away with curious hunger that makes him melts into the bed and sets fire across his skin.

Ryoji's hands roam over his body, slipping under his shirt and making him shiver under his fingertips, having him under his absolute control without mercy, but with care. He then bites Makoto's lower lip lightly before kissing the corner of his mouth, down his cheek, and open-mouths down his jawline and to the crook of his neck. He leans back, exposing more of him in the ways he never does with anyone else, and digs his nails into Ryoji's shoulders harder than he had intended.

"Makoto," Ryoji breathes, and when he opens his eyes – when did he even close them? – he's smiling, so sad, so kind, so gentle. Their breathings calm down slowly as they look into each other's souls, bare and unguarded, no stones unturn, no secrets hidden. Then, he touches his forehead with Makoto's as he murmurs against his lips. "Makoto, I love you."

He smiles, and thinks of the words that he feels but has never said, and _might not_ say, out loud.

_I love you, too._

* * *

The times during Kyoto trip are spent together in contentment, with him reassuring Ryoji the best he could that whatever sense of dread he's feeling, they'll deal with it together.

After the first day, where Junpei's out exploring the hotel, Makoto pulls Ryoji back into their room and shut the door before pulling him down on the futon, sitting side by side. Once they're settled down, he touches Ryoji's fingers, and the other returns it with a smile before holding his hand in his own cold one. He lets silence lingers for a while before murmuring. "How are you?"

Ryoji knows what he's speaking of, the glint in his eyes betraying nothing of his emotions. There are some lingering doubts and fear that shouldn't have been there, and he wants to dispel it, cast that despair and that fear into the abyss where they won't return again.

He smiles slightly. "…It's not just me who can read you – you know me like the back of your own hand."

"Beside the point," He stops Ryoji from getting side-tracked, turning his hand so that he could squeeze Ryoji's tightly, reassuring him that he'll be here, right by his side. "I told you, we'll deal with it together."

Ryoji looks away. "…It's unexplainable. We're inexorably drawn to each other, and don't get me wrong, I am _happy_ that you returned my feelings. But I feels like the closer I am to you, the more I'm going to hurt you in the end, and—"

" _Shh_ ," He whispers, placing a finger on Ryoji's soft, warm lips, stopping him in his tract. When he pulls the digit back, he says sternly. "Ryoji, I _know_ you won't hurt me. It's just not you."

"You trust me so deeply and so absolutely, while I can't even _understand_ myself," Ryoji laughs, humorless, the sound grating and awful. He instinctively grips Ryoji's hand tighter. "Can I ask you why?"

"I don't know myself," He confesses, drawing out a surprise hum. When Ryoji looks his way, he smiles, silently admiring the way moonlight reflect off his eyes, caressing his feature and turning his skin marble-like, so flawless and beautiful. He then pulls Ryoji's hand to his cheek, reminding Ryoji that he's still here. "But you're kind. Gentle. Warm. You care like no one else. You have never hurt me, intentionally or not, and I don't see why you would, ever."

"But—"

"Ryoji," He says firmly, pulling Ryoji's hand away slightly before kissing his cold fingertips. "Don't you trust me?"

The boy blinks a little, before a smile cracks across his lips and he laughs lightly. "You know, that's a low blow. But… I do. I trust you. With _everything_."

"So do I," Makoto returns, pulling him in until their foreheads touch, and he exhales, letting his breath mingles with Ryoji's own slightly ragged one. "Trust me, just like how I trust you. Trust me that I know you won't hurt me. Trust me that we'll deal with it together."

Ryoji sighs, with weights finally sliding off his shoulders and discarded on the floor. He then laughs quietly, lightly, _free_ of the invisible burdens. "Okay. If you say so."

They share a passionate, careful kiss that says _we'll be okay_ after that.

* * *

A few days after the Kyoto trip has been… strange.

It is the third time in his life he's witness life leaving someone right before his eyes, and he feels _cold_ , his marrows arching with dread that has made its home there. Junpei, the usually cheerful, always upbeat Junpei, cries and cries until nothing is left in his eyes but the dried-up tears and the sorrow that will never leave. Seeing that physically _hurts_ , and he doesn't want to think.

He's jolted out of his thoughts when Ryoji's hand finds his, cold fingers carefully curling around his own, his smile so sad and so kind as he lets silence reign over them as a reassurance. He glances up to look at those shimmering blue eyes as Ryoji pulls up his hand to his lips and kisses it gently, carefully, before placing it back down between them on the mattress.

He lets out the breath he hasn't realized he's been holding and looks down between his feet, at the blighted spot of something he couldn't quite recognize that has lodged itself into the woods. Ryoji doesn't say anything, but offering his company all the same. After another exhalation, he – he doesn't know what he wants to do, what he _should_ do, so he absently tugs at the end of the scarf that has rested not too far from their jointed hands.

Ryoji takes the silent cue and scoots a little closer before wrapping his long scarf around his neck, too, and pulls his head into his shoulder. Makoto doesn't resist, letting out another breath as he leans into that comfortable cold – Ryoji has never been warm, but his cold is like the morning breeze that would ruffle at his hair and calming down his nerves. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to take in the feeling of Ryoji's coldness and his kind, gentle touch on his hand.

Ryoji doesn't know everything, of course, but he knows enough. Enough to emphasize, enough to feel Makoto's uneasiness under the way he _breathes_ and offers him a silent shoulder to lean on and a kind hand to hold. After unknown stretch of time later, when he's sure his voice won't crack and his tears he _knows_ are there won't spill, he murmurs into the folds of fading yellow that is keeping him warm. "…Thank you."

"I'm here beside you," Ryoji murmurs, his smile so warm and so kind as he leans his head atop Makoto's own. He doesn't mind it – his touch feels soothing, and he'll take it any day. "You can lean on me."

He hums.

He isn't quite sure how long they stay like that, in his room that is too dark and too cold during the night, on his bed that is starting to warm under their hands and skin, under the fading moonlight that's shifting away into the clouds of the heavens above. But when he finally finds it in him to open his eyes and pulls himself away from the soothing cold that is Ryoji's shoulder, the moon is already far gone, and the absence of any noise except for the barking dogs and the statics of the street lamps are the only things that give him any resemblance of the sense of time.

He turns to Ryoji, who still maintain that kind, kind smile that makes his heart flutter and butterflies scatter in his stomach, and he tries to smile back – but he isn't too sure if what he's just done is a smile or not. He squeezes his cold hand just a little tighter before shifting his head towards the clock, seeing the needles on the time that is too late for Ryoji to remain here. So he tugs at the cold hand before looking back at his boyfriend (…oh yeah, now he could really use that word now, huh) and opens his mouth to say something.

Ryoji immediately puts a finger on his lips, stopping him, before whispering. "I didn't mind, you know. I like staying with you. You should know that."

He hums, reluctantly untangling his hand away from Ryoji's before saying. "It's late. You should—"

"—Go back, probably, but I could stay a little longer."

Makoto frowns. While he _wants_ nothing more for that to happen, Ryoji will undoubtedly get his behind frozen like in the Kyoto bath if he stays too long. "You'd risk—"

"—Mitsuru-san's execution, yeah, that's not a fun thought," He laughs casually, lightly, before he pulls Makoto's hand back into his grip. "But this – _you_ – are _always_ worth the risk."

…So many things are wrong in that sentence, but he doesn't – couldn't – question it as he feels his heart beating in time with the pulse under his fingertips. And before he could say anything, Ryoji's pulling his face towards him, and his lips are already on Makoto's before he even realizes it.

It is soft, slow, forever caring, forever kind. He allows himself and his worry to melt away as he hooks both his arms around Ryoji's neck and deepens the kiss more, pressing their bodies impossibly closer in a way he probably would never allow with anyone else. Ryoji puts a hand on his waist, his thumb massaging his abdomen absently, making him shiver involuntarily and his mouth slack open a little, allowing access as Ryoji shifts on the bed for better comfort.

When they pull apart, he's panting slightly against Ryoji's lips, the other smiling warmly just the same. Then, he murmurs. "Let me stay here a little longer. Unless you don't want me to?"

 _I do,_ he thinks, but doesn't say it, instead replying by burying his face into the crook of Ryoji's neck and breathing slowly against his skin.

"Okay," Ryoji confirms his unspoken answer and holds him closer still, the soothing cold slowly turning into a calming warmth. "I'll stay for as long as you need me to."

* * *

His room has somehow become Ryoji's second home during the next week.

He drops by every single day, not that he minds it, and would often sits with him in his room until the clock ticks near midnight, and he would leave right before then, timing himself just before Kirijou would make her ways downstairs to check on the state of the dorm during the Dark Hour.

Tonight is much the same like many nights before, with them sitting close, their knees touching, on his bed, their hands intertwined. The uneasiness and dread are quelled under Ryoji's careful lips and gentle fingers that would touch in places where they would calm him down almost against his own will. And right at this moment in time, he could make himself believe that there's nothing but the two of them here, in this world, clad by the first fresh snow and the comforting silence.

He hums, content, as Ryoji's lips hover over his pulse point on his neck, his breath hot, contrasting with the cold fingers that are ghosting over his hand and up his arm. Ryoji has never gone further than that – just outside of his cloth, even when Makoto thinks he _wants_ him to. But he couldn't find it in him to say his wishes, so he settles for a compromise that is Ryoji calming his body and soul and ease his mind with his careful, tender touches that are no longer enough.

After a moment, Ryoji nuzzles his neck, and he cranes his head a little to try (and fail) to see Ryoji's face. The boy tightens his hand around Makoto's own before murmuring against his skin, "Makoto, are you sure you're really okay? Things have been hard for a while now, haven't they?"

"I'm okay," He breathes, pushing Ryoji back a little to see his face better. His smile is still so warm, so kind, so he smiles back, the act itself coming to him much easier than it used to. But then, he notices the lines of scowls on his face, so he reaches up his hand to caress Ryoji's cheek with his thumb and murmurs. "…What about you?"

"I'm—"

"—Ryoji," He stops Ryoji before the other could lie. "Something's bothering you."

Not a question, but a statement. Ryoji keeps his eyes steady before he sighs and places his forehead on Makoto's shoulder. He then murmurs. "…Even after all of this, even after what we've done – _you_ 've done – I still couldn't… it feels like we really shouldn't be staying together like this. I feel like this is a mistake."

"It isn't a mistake," Makoto murmurs. He knows Ryoji means _Makoto_ loving him, and not the other way around, that he's considering to be an error. He doesn't understand the occasional spells of doubts that would sometimes overcome Ryoji like waves of the black sea that would swallow him up in his self-made misery, and he wants to reassure Ryoji that this isn't a mistake. "I've never been happier."

"…I'll probably make you sad, or—or hurt you, I—"

"Ryoji," He says sternly, pulling Ryoji's face up. _I've told you once, and I'll tell you again._ "We'll deal with this. _Together_. So, focus on here and now, 'kay?"

Ryoji laughs lightly after a moment, his worries briefly forgotten. "…Okay. If you say so."

 _Forget the world, forget the worries._ "Only us," _for tonight, there is only us._ He thinks, saying little aloud, but Ryoji gets his meaning anyway as he smiles. Makoto hums, pushing himself properly up the bed before pulling Ryoji, who seems a little flustered and surprised at that. His heart is trying to make its way out of his chest, he thinks, but he just couldn't give two fucks to it right now as he pulls Ryoji closer and presses their lips together.

"Makoto—" Ryoji says between breath that's faster and hotter, and Makoto listens, his hands slowly tugging and pulling the scarf away and throwing it onto the floor. "If – If we're doing it like this, I don't – I don't think I can stop—"

"Then don't," He whispers.

Ryoji inhales sharply, as if trying to put back together his shredded self-restraint that's dwindling down by the seconds, so Makoto just rolls his eyes and kisses him again, and again, and again, until all that trace of hesitation is gone.

* * *

Even lust-driven, Ryoji is still so careful and so gentle in the way he moves.

After a heated kiss that has left them both breathless, he pushes Makoto down, a hand slowly undoing his bowtie before unbuttoning his shirt while the other pulls the MP3 off his neck and places it on the floor. He hums and cranes his neck back as Ryoji nuzzles the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and giggling into his skin, setting his nerves on fire and making him shivers uncontrollably.

He pushes himself up a little to let Ryoji pushes off his blazer and his shirt. Makoto's question (or moans, or – whatever) dies in his throat when Ryoji kisses down his neck and to his collarbone, leaving careful marks on his skin while his hands roam across his chest and torso. He could feel heat bubbles in the pit of his stomach, and a louder moan is ripped out of him before he could stop it.

Ryoji grins as he continues to kiss downward, one of his hands tugging and pulling off his belt. He wants to protest, to let Ryoji know that he shouldn't be the only one who's stripped down to nothing, but his words are replaced by barely-suppressed groan of pleasure when Ryoji mischievously kisses the bulge in his pants through the fabric that makes the contact even more maddening. The boy pushes his legs down, not allowing him to wriggle away as he undoes the clasp of his pants and half-freeing his length from its confinement.

"Ryoji…" He breathes, looking down to see Ryoji peering up at him through his long lashes. He could _feel_ the boy smirking on his skin as he kisses his abdomen, his hand slowly, _too slowly_ , pulling down both his pants and underwear, leaving him exposed.

His face is unbearably hot, and with how Ryoji's drinking him – exposed to the very soul – in with his eyes, he couldn't help but whimpers out in embarrassment before looking away. And when he feels Ryoji kisses his forehead, he glances back to see those pools of shimmering blue as Ryoji whispers against his lips breathily, his wants and his desire as clear as day, "You're beautiful."

"Shut up," He mumbles with no real bite behind his words as he squirms under the intensity of Ryoji's gaze. He wants to close his legs and hide away, his earlier half-boldness suddenly thrown out the window. He hadn't lied when he said he wanted this, but being under those eyes that seem to see through every fibre of his being makes him uneasy. "I—"

"Shh," Ryoji kisses his lips briefly, cutting him off, before—

He gasps when those cold, gentle fingers touch him.

He squirms again, and Ryoji is chuckling under his breath before placing tender kisses on his cheek and the corner of his mouth as he tugs and pulls and touches in places Makoto doesn't know could feel _this good_ , and he pulls Ryoji down to bite into his shoulder through his unbuttoned shirt, hands pawing and clawing at his flanks as his body tenses and his hips buckle up instinctually.

The cold feels so _good_ and he's hot in the most pleasant ways possible, his back arching off the bed, seeking more of his touches, more of _him_ , as Ryoji kisses down his chest, leaving hot, wet trails behind. He puts his hands over his mouth, muffling the moans that are getting too loud to remain within the confines of his room. His chest is heaving, and it takes his addled mind too long to realize where Ryoji is heading until his mouth wraps around his length.

He gasps, writhing under Ryoji, who keeps his hips still as he trails his tongue and lips along his member, making him half-mewls uncharacteristically, his hands pressing harder against his lips. Ryoji chooses this exact moment to hum into him before applying more pressure, making Makoto's toes curl and his hips to buckle against the restraint. Ryoji, however, doesn't stop as he keeps licking and sucking until he finally comes undone.

All he could feel is electricity through his entire body and the heat in his stomach slowly subsiding for a full minute and a half before he starts questioning anything. When he looks down, Ryoji is licking his lips, and his face flames when he realizes that Ryoji— "You did _not—_ "

"I just did," Ryoji laughs, and Makoto melts into the bed in embarrassment. As if making him let out sounds he shouldn't have been able to and his body to writhe and shiver under his merciless touches is not enough, Ryoji decides to add huskily, returning the white-hot warmth into his lower stomach, "You are _delicious_ , Makoto, and I want more."

"Oh my _god_ , you _dick_ ," He mumbles, looking anywhere but at those shimmering blue that glints with mirth and affection he doesn't know what to do with.

"We can stop, if you don't want to," Ryoji says softly, putting Makoto's face in his hands before kissing his nose lightly once.

Ryoji tries to pull away, but Makoto stops him, his face still red and hot and _bothered_ and he wants _more_ of him. He hooks both his arms around that scarf-less neck and murmurs against his lips, leaving many but a few words unsaid; _I want more of you. I want all of you. I need_ "More, please."

Ryoji, being who he is, understands anyway as he chuckles and kisses him deeply until he couldn't breathe and he's lightheaded. He pants when the boy pulls away, and after he catches his breath, Ryoji puts his fingers over his lips. "I didn't bring lube with me, so this will have to do."

He nods dumbly, nibbling on the digits and giving them a few licks. Ryoji hums before pushing his fingers in a little deeper, and he couldn't help but moans when Ryoji _grinds_ into him, making him hard again, and he doesn't try to muffle his own voice this time when he sees what kind of expression Ryoji's having, so _aroused_ and so content. He keeps sucking on those cold digits as his hands clumsily removes Ryoji's belt and unzips his pants, the other boy smiling and kissing his forehead lightly before pulling his fingers back and climbing off of his confinements.

He's _beautiful_ , is what Makoto could think, first and foremost, his skin pale like the moonlight itself, his body lean and toned and perfectly-shaped, and he must've been staring quiet a bit, because Ryoji laughs, not in the least bothered. He seems rather delighted as he whispers, "Do you like what you see?"

"Don't tease," He mumbles, and shivers minutely as Ryoji drags a hand down his abs, his other hand – the one he has just coated with his saliva a moment ago – is already between his legs. He decides to drop back down onto the pillow and closes his eyes.

"Relax, okay?" Ryoji breathes, and when he nods, the boy touches his entrance, carefully circling his finger around him. He reflexively tightens, but forces himself to relax after a few long, deep breathes. Ryoji leans up to kiss him deeply, passionately, taking his lower lip in between his teeth before diving into his mouth, savouring everything that Makoto has to offer. After a while, Ryoji pushes in a finger, and he tenses up again. "Shh, it's okay, take it slow. I'll go slow. If it hurts, tell me."

He nods, not trusting himself enough to use any voice less it cracks and sounds less human and more… primal. Ryoji's finger is searching, touching his insides gently, as if afraid to hurt him, and he almost asks him to go faster when he adds another finger, filling him up, making him tenser. He shivers, the tingling of pain making itself known. The sensation of being filled is strange and new, slightly unpleasant, but he doesn't think this is too—

He arches his back and cries out when those fingers touch a bundle of nerve that makes him white out momentarily.

"Oh! Found it," Ryoji says with a grin, and Makoto is about to ask _what do you mean by that_ when he keeps pushing and brushing over that spot with zeal, making him cries out unintelligibly and his legs cramping around Ryoji's waist. The boy laughs, adding another finger with care, stretching him out even more before he kisses Makoto to silence him. He moves his hands under Ryoji's unbuttoned shirt and claws at his skin, probably leaving nail marks that Ryoji doesn't seem to care much about, and slowly comes apart at each and every touch upon his nerve that makes the pressure in his chest and his belly _unbearable_.

"You ready?" He whispers as he pulls his cold fingers away.

He nods, holding Ryoji closer, as the boy slowly enters him.

He gasps, the feeling of being stretched open a little painful, and somehow so… _gratifying_. Ryoji keeps himself still after pushing in only a little, peppering little kisses on the corner of his mouth and his cheek to distract him. When he finally relaxes, Ryoji slowly pushes in again until all of him is buried inside, and Makoto have never felt so full, so… _complete_ , before. The sensation might be tinged with a bit of pain, but after he experimentally grinding his hips against Ryoji's own, it's starting to disappear, replaced by pleasure that's rising to heights he has never known.

Ryoji groans, gripping his hips tightly, stopping him. And when Makoto is about to protest out loud, the boy pulls out before trusting back in, making him clenches around his member hard.

"Oh – oh _fuck_ ," Makoto breathes, throwing his head back and digging his nails into the pillow. All he could see and feel and smell is Ryoji – he's everywhere, and when Ryoji moves his hips genuinely, he lost any shred of control he has left and before long, he's moaning loud and uncontained. "Fuck – Ryoji, more… please—"

That's probably the most needy, uncharacteristic thing he's ever said (or moan) out loud, and Ryoji replies with a deep kiss to keep him quiet as his movements become erratic, guttural groans mingling with his breath as the kiss gets sloppier and more heated. He could feel himself unwinding into little strips of pleasure and nothing else, and he doesn't have it in him to even care. When Ryoji pulls his lips back, Makoto reaches for something and sinks his teeth into Ryoji's silk-like flesh, making the boy groans a little louder and his thrusts that much harder.

"I'm close," Ryoji breathes, and he only hums into his shoulder, lapping at the blooming purplish spots he has just bitten on, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on the pearly-white skin. After a while, Ryoji tries to pull away, murmuring against his ear in hurry, "Makoto, I'm—"

He couldn't say anything, too enraptured by all of this, so he keeps Ryoji in place with his legs hooking around his hips as he's sent over the edge, his release leaving him a gasping, incoherent mess that still manages to cling to the boy before him as he feels something hot filling his insides, making him shudder, his body clenching around Ryoji's length tightly, as if not wanting to let go.

Ryoji then half-collapses on top of him as they share the hot air and the body heat. A moment's pause, and Ryoji murmurs quietly into his collarbone, leaving kisses that make him tremble and wanting for more, more, _more_ , because he could never get enough. "That… was amazing."

He clears his throat, finding his voice after a full minute later, "…Yeah."

"I love you, Makoto," Ryoji murmurs against his skin, his cold hand finding Makoto's own and grasping it gently, carefully, firmly.

He squeezes back, silently saying _and I you_ through the touch that could convey more than his words ever will.

* * *

_I wish you could stay,_ is what he wants to say, but what he manages out after spending an hour dragging himself downstairs with Ryoji (also with Junpei and Takeba _smirking_ at him before they return to their rooms, those people), is but a short hum and a word. He has never been ones with words, anyway. He sighs before leaning onto Ryoji's shoulder as the boy laughs lightly and murmur. "Bye."

"Goodnight," Ryoji grins, pushing him back slightly and placing a careful kiss on his cheek, making him blush again. "I want to stay, too, but we both know Mitsuru-san will really lay into me, and I still want to live, thank you."

"Yeah," He hums quietly. And before Ryoji walks away, he tugs at his cold hand before murmuring. "See you tomorrow?"

Ryoji nods with a smile, "See you tomorrow, my light."

 _My light?_ He asks mentally, tilting his head to the side, the notion seemingly coming out of nowhere. He opens his mouth to ask, but stops himself midway.

Ryoji, as always, picks up on his unspoken question anyway and smiles brightly, "I don't know, but I just feel this way. You're my light… or something like that."

He snorts. "You should be the light. The sun."

He shakes his head. "I could never be. But _you_ can. You _are_."

And when Ryoji walks away, he smiles, feeling so free and so content, something he has not felt for a long, long time.

And when he turns back into the dorm, as the Dark Hour strikes, he fails to see that Ryoji is still walking back towards the station, without being transformed into coffins like a normal person should be.

* * *

"You okay?"

He asks, reaching a hand to touch Ryoji's cheek as the boy winces, the song briefly forgotten as his face contorted into one of discomfort and pain. Ryoji keeps still for a while, his eyes unfocused, so Makoto pulls the headphones away and puts both hands over the boy's cheek. Ryoji then forces out a small, unconvincing smile. "I'm… fine, I think. Just a headache."

"Doesn't look it," He murmurs, pulling in Ryoji's face until their foreheads touch. "You should rest."

Unlike all the times before, Ryoji actually considers this as an option, coining him into the fact that this is probably more painful than he's let on. He waits patiently, and after a few minutes, Ryoji comes to a conclusion. With a slow, hesitant nod, he says. "I… think so. Sleep might help with it. I'm sorry, Makoto, I really want to stay—"

"S'okay," He says, shaking his head. "Health comes first."

"You're so kind," Ryoji says, his smile so soft and tender. He leans down to peck Makoto's lips lightly once before he pushes himself off the bed. Makoto follows, but Ryoji turns back to stop him. "It's okay, Makoto. You are still tired from what you did in the club yesterday, right? I'll be fine."

 _You're kinder than me. Much too kind,_ he thinks, his arms and legs arches and groans after their excursion in Tartarus yesterday. With reluctance he doesn't want to feel, he slowly nods and sits back down, his body screaming at him to lie back into the bed right at this very moment. "…'Kay. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," Ryoji echoes as he smiles one last time before walking out the door, his footsteps fading away into the dark.

It takes Makoto a while to move again, and his shifts his eyes out the window and towards the full moon that's glaring back into his soul. He feels like he should've stopped Ryoji, feels like something is wrong, something is _incredibly_ wrong, and dread is creeping up his limbs like vines that refuse to retreat.

Tonight is the Full Moon… He hopes nothing bad comes of it.

* * *

That sense of impending doom is real, too real, and Ryoji—

 _Death. Pharos. Ryoji._ They're all one and the same, the Harbinger of the fall that was not meant to be, that was created by congregating Shadows together, that exists for the sole purpose of wringing out lives and shoving them all into the void that is Death, the absolute.

He hasn't had the chance to talk to Ryoji about any of this, too numb and too confused, and when he could find his voice Ryoji had already passed out after his memories have returned.

He had decided to ditch school, for today, sitting beside Ryoji in the spare room Kirijou had provided, his hand absently tracing along the cold fingers and the sharp knuckles and the silk-like cheek that was in his palm just yesterday, when headache struck him, when they're still okay and _human_.

He breathes, stopping his thoughts from twirling around indefinitely, focusing his attentions on the sound of breathing and the cool hand under his fingertips. What Ryoji said brings his world apart, shattering it into pieces that could never be put back together. But he _knows_ that what they share – their bonds, their _loves_ – are not lies. Everything is as real as the sun and the stars and the canopy of glittering starlight above them… and everything is as real as the dark waves that crash and swallow up anything that moves beyond the lifeless shore.

He doesn't want it to be real, but he cannot deny this anymore – Ryoji is a Shadow, the bringer of the end that will brought about Death to everything he's ever known and loved – _including Ryoji himself_. The boy has never said this, but he doesn't need Ryoji to say anything to know his mind, as open as the Asphodel meadow and as kind and gentle as the first breeze of spring. Ryoji doesn't want this, but he isn't given a choice, his fate set in stone by the primordial god that personifies the goal of all life – _Death_ itself.

Makoto silently pull his cold hand towards his lips and plants a gentle kiss to rouse him. Much to his surprise, Ryoji wakes up, stirring awake from his nightmarish stupor and blinking lazily at the ceiling. It is almost comical how his eyes slowly land on him, and he offers Ryoji the best smile he could've made under the circumstances before breathing against the cool skin that he never wants to let go. "…Hey."

"M-Makoto…?" Ryoji breathes, bolting up and immediately sways where he is. Makoto grabs his shoulder tightly, carefully, making sure that he won't fall over or hurt himself. When the boy manages to find some semblance of control, he whispers, his voice shaking. "Makoto, why—"

"—I care about you," He murmurs, shifting up to sit on the bed and closely watching Ryoji as he shifts and looks away from him. He sighs, knowing full well that Ryoji is blaming himself for all the things he has no control over, pain painted clear in the way he breathes. "It's not your fault. You didn't choose this."

"Does it matter?" He says, his voice barely above a whisper, a silent plea for Makoto to back away, a request he will _not_ abide by. "Makoto, I am a Shadow. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have told you anything, I should've kept my distance and—"

"It's the best month of my life," He cuts Ryoji off again, pulling the hand to his lip for a second time before exhaling into the cold skin that trembles under his lips. He smiles slightly. "I regret not being able to stay longer. But not anything else."

"You should."

"Do you trust me?"

Ryoji blinks at this, looking up at him like deer in the headlight, mouth agape, fingers instinctually curling upon Makoto's hand in return. But then, he forcefully pulls his hand back and put it over his chest, keeping it away from Makoto's reach before murmuring. "That's irrelevant. I trust you with everything, but I can't forgive myself for ever hurting you and your friends like this."

"Ryoji—"

"I'll tell you everything when the others are here," He cuts Makoto off simply, his voice now steely with not a shred of kindness remaining, and it makes his skin crawl, makes his heart aches. "So please… don't stay here, I beg you."

He opens his mouth to protest, to say anything, but words fail him when those eyes, which should shine like moonlight reflecting on mirrors, dim and dull like stained window that has shattered beyond repair. He gulps back his objection and looks down at his own hands, shaking and unsure, and then back up at those blue eyes as they plead him to leave.

He couldn't say anything, so he gets up and shakily walks out of the room, feeling like leaving his own heart behind as he does so.

* * *

The maternal being. Nyx. The Fall. Everything is the horrible, undeniable truth that makes him wants to curl up and disappear into nothingness.

And Ryoji has the audacity to suggest him wiping their memories away, in order to live out the rest of their days peacefully, with Makoto being the _only one_ who can _kill him_ with his own two hands—

"You're asking me to forget you. Us."

He manages out through ragged breath, his voice externally calm, but his eyes are blown wide and his fear are clogging up his throat and sending biting cold hands of dusk and blight into his very soul, sinking his heart deeper into the sea of black sludge that is his own fear and misery. The others are looking at him, Junpei with something akin to anger, the others with _pity_ – he doesn't need any of those, he doesn't _want_ any of those – as he takes shaky steps towards Ryoji, who looks away.

"Yes," The boy says when they're face to face, but his eyes are not looking at Makoto. He couldn't move his hands, he couldn't feel his tongue as he bites and chews at it until it bleeds, until the pain snaps him out of his disbelief and pain and sear themselves across his sternum and tearing his heart to pieces. "Death is absolute. It is as undeniable as the flow of time or the continuum of space. So please… choose well—"

"You're asking me to forget _us_ ," He bites out again, blood staining his lips and the back of his throat, the scent of iron and life filling his nostrils and blocking out everything else. When Ryoji winces, he manages to say what he thinks, with fear having already tearing down the barriers that would often block the passage between his thoughts and his actions away. "You want to forget this? Then what are we? What _were_ we? Our love, our feelings, are real. And you're asking me to _forget that_ by _killing you?_ "

"Yes," Ryoji says again, his lips trembling slightly as he takes a few steps away from Makoto. He couldn't grab Ryoji in time as he takes on step after another until he's at the door, and he murmurs brokenly, shattering whatever scraps of heart Makoto has left into tiny little bites that would be blown into the merciless wind calls _time_. "I don't want you to be in pain, Makoto. So please… choose wisely."

And then, he's gone, leaving nothing but the deafening silence and a painfully beating, broken heart behind in his wake.

* * *

Everything is covered in fog of their impending deaths as their schedule resumes as if nothing is wrong and everything will be fine the next day.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, everything _hurts_ and Ryoji's eyes as he says _you have to kill me_ are so haunting, he'd often wake up in the middle of the night for them. The world is silenced and grayed as he drags himself off the ground each and every day, the action harder and harder as time goes by, and he feels like he wants to curl up on the bed and never wake up.

Ryoji thinks killing him and making all of them forget about the fall would make it less painful, make it manageable, make things _better_ – but it won't. For all that is waiting, for all that has happened, Makoto doesn't want to forget anything he's done, any moments he's spent with his friends, any time he has used with _Ryoji_. All the tender touches and kisses and the coolness that they share – how could he forget? And more importantly, how could he kill the one person that brightens his days and driving away the darkness in his heart? How could he kill the one person he loves the most?

He won't, he _can't_ , he doesn't want to. His stomach shifts and churns at the thoughts, of pulling the trigger with Ryoji at the other end, of severing their ties with his own hands – he _won't_ do that. He can't do that – how could he? Ryoji might be a Shadow, but he's _alive_ and he has thoughts that are his own and life that is his and _love_ that defines him. Makoto can't kill a _person_ who he loves so dearly, a person who has no choice in the matter, a person who is his _light._

But the truth of the matter remains just the same, that Ryoji is the enemy, a part of the Goddess of Death that would bring about the absolute end, and he doesn't want to think anymore. It hurts to breathe, each drag of air through his lungs feeling like molten lava, each pull of muscles painful and laden with lead that will never go away. He still silently wishes to wake up in the world where he and Ryoji is together, not torn apart by the merciless fate like this.

When Christmas rolls around, all he could do is lie in his room, breathing out cold fog against the stale air that fills his lungs with discomfort. His messages to Ryoji are all left unanswered, and he drops the thing back into the mattress as he keeps his eyes on the ceiling, his mind too tired and his heart too hurt to do anything else but breathing and trying to go back to sleep that never comes easy and one that he would wake up from too early, plagued by nightmares of bloodstained butterflies and a dying boy in fading yellow and kind eyes.

He closes his eyes and bites on his lip until it bleeds, and murmurs to the silence that crushes him harder than gravity ever could. "I miss you."

_I miss everything about you. I want you to be here. Even if you will leave, I still want you to remain here, I don't want you to go away, I don't want to live like this anymore. It hurts to think, it hurts to breathe._

He says none of those out loud as he drags himself off the cold bed, putting on his coat and almost aimlessly making his way downstairs and out the dorm, despite the lateness of the hours and the protest of his friends from the lounge.

He couldn't stay in the room, the memories they spent sitting there together, with Ryoji babbling about anything and everything, his smile then so bright and free and _kind_ haunting his visions and sending his mind spirally down towards the depths of despair even more, that in the end, he will either rip the memories out of his head by his own hands (and kill Ryoji in the process), or he would lose it when Nyx descends down to reap the lives out of the world. He has to go somewhere, anywhere, escaping from his thoughts that run around like dogs chasing their own tails, or he would break (he's already breaking and is on the verge of being broken) and then everything would come apart.

He blinks, and finds himself at Naganaki Shrine, the moonlight adorning the dark sky and bouncing off the white snow that is soft under the soles of his shoes. He lets out the breath he is holding, the puff of frigid cold clouding his visions momentarily. He slowly walks towards the swing in the middle of piles of fallen snow, and absently sits down on it, swinging the thing minutely and letting the freezing cold bites into his skin and dulling the senses in the tips of his fingers.

After a while – he doesn't know how long, he couldn't bring himself to care – he hears footsteps through the fallen snow. He doesn't pay it much mind at first, but when he catches that flow of fading yellow, he looks up, his breath hitching in his throat as he watches his beloved standing there with a sad, sad smile and a small box in his hand.

There is a moment of silence that stretches into near-infinity before Ryoji ( _oh_ , god, how he misses saying that name) murmurs to the still wind and the cold that seeps into his very bones. "…Merry Christmas, Makoto."

He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't find his voice, so he just stares as Ryoji walks closer before taking his spot on the next swing. Makoto has stopped moving his a long while ago now, he thinks, with how much snow has start to cover the tracks of his feet. Ryoji seems to be waiting, so he thinks of things to say, and manages out a meagre, "I've missed you."

"…I shouldn't be here," Ryoji murmurs quietly, his eyes looking down at the small box as his fingers twirl it around. "I shouldn't be here at all, but… I saw you walking here. And you look— I just… I just want to make sure that you're okay."

 _How could I be okay? You asked me to **kill** you. You asked me to kill you and forget us and do everything that I don't want to,_ "I'm not."

"…I'm sorry," Ryoji whispers, his eyes so gentle, so kind, so warm, and he wants nothing more than to pull him in and kisses him until something makes sense. "I know I asked a lot out of you."

"Could you do it, then?" He says, his voice breaking apart as he gets up from where he is and walks over. Ryoji doesn't pull away from him as his trembling fingers reach for the cheek and brushes at the beauty mark under his eyes. "If you were me."

"I—" Ryoji begins, but stops himself and looks down. He seems to steel his resolve, somehow, as he looks up with tight expression and eyes that won't yield. "It doesn't matter. I am a monster. You need to, for your own sake. _Please_."

"I _can't_ ," He bites out, and Ryoji pulls away, standing up abruptly. "Ryoji… I can't."

"You have to."

"I can't rip out my own heart like this. I've lost enough. I don't want to lose you," He says quietly, and that somehow brings Ryoji's eyes to him. His heart beats painfully in his throat as he continues to say against the still air and the cold of winter that doesn't recede. "Even if you have to go away after this, I don't care. I want you to stay as long as you can. I don't want to lose someone so dear to me ever again."

"Makoto…" Ryoji breathes the words out slowly, and for the first time since that day under the full moon, Makoto could see something else other than pain in his eyes. _Awe._

He reaches for Ryoji's cheek again, and this time, there is no resistance.

"So please… don't run away from me."

Ryoji seems to want to say something, many things, but he just pulls away again, his eyes darting away as he murmurs. "I'm so sorry, Makoto. Please… don't choose me over your own happiness."

He isn't given the chance to respond, to say that _he's wrong_ , when the Dark Hour devours the world and he's scattering into blue butterflies that shift and fly away into the sickening light of the moon.

* * *

Ryoji is here, in his room, on the day he's promised – December 31st.

They are still for a time that feels like a heartbeat and an eon, the same box he'd seen Ryoji carried with him a week ago in his hand again. Makoto just looks straight into those storms of emotions in the pair of shimmering sapphire that have never failed to take his breath away, and when the clock ticks away the time that never waits, Ryoji says quietly. "…Good evening."

"…Evening," He returns flatly, watching as Ryoji carefully makes his way towards the bed and sits down not too far from him, a fair bit of distance between them. And, despite his better judgement, he says the same words again. "…I've missed you."

"…Me too," He says with a small smile, a different response from last time. "Have you decided?"

"Long time ago," He says, and Ryoji eyes are pained. He already knows what Makoto wants to – _will_ – say, and his pain deepens in his eyes as Makoto whispers. "I will not kill you."

Ryoji seems to mull over his words, as if finding some kind of solution. He puts the box down onto the bed and rises up to his feet, mumbling something under his breath before turning his way. With a sigh and a pained smile that doesn't reach his eyes, he says, "…I don't want you to see me like this, I really don't. But you have to kill me, Makoto. Please. I don't want you to be in pain. I don't want to be the one to cause you pain and lose you because of it."

The light engulfs him, and replacing Ryoji's human body is the humungous monster with coffin-wings and hollow eyes and _death_. But, strangely, he doesn't feel fear. He remembers this form, tearing itself out of Orpheus and saving him from the Magician, all those months ago. So, he reaches a hand, touching the cold, smooth mask. He could _feel_ Ryoji flinches under his fingertips, even when his form wouldn't allow him to, and murmurs. "…You saved me."

" _No,_ " Ryoji denies. Stubborn. Persistent. _Terrified_. " _I did nothing but causing you pain. I've been doing everything wrong from the start. I am a monster, Makoto, I_ —"

"A monster would never love like you do, care like you do," He says, tracing his fingers along the smooth mask before touching along the silver jaw. "You are no monster to me. I care about you ( _I love you, his lips do not say)_. I always have, and I always will. I can never kill you, and I don't want to forget."

There is stillness in the air before Ryoji sighs as he shifts back into his human form once more, and this time, he takes a step towards Makoto, letting him touches his cheek and rubs at the beauty mark and feels him _alive_ in his hand. Then, Ryoji smiles slightly, a single drop of tear making its way past his eyelashes as he says, "You're so stubborn."

"Am I?" He smiles.

"…I love you too, Makoto," Ryoji says the truth that he has always known, and he takes another step, closing whatever distance remains between them and letting Makoto feels his breath and his calming cold and sees nothing but his blue eyes that are so kind, so gentle. "I don't want to fight you. I don't want to cause you any more pain."

"I know," He mumbles against Ryoji's lips. "But I still want to live. And I don't regret any of this, you know. What we have. What we share. I won't trade this for anything, so trust me… I'll safeguard it, and I'll save this world, too."

"…I hope you succeed, I truly do," Ryoji murmurs, leaning in to his touch a little more.

"I will," He says resolutely, taking Ryoji's face into his hands as he breathes the words he has never before spoken aloud. "I love you," _with all of my heart. I don't blame you for anything, and I wish for your happiness as much as you do mine. So, trust me, that I will see this through, that loving you is never a mistake, that this is the path I choose for myself. I love you with all that I am – and I always will._

Ryoji blinks, the silent words taking their time sinking in. And when they do, he smiles, and closes whatever distance remains between them.

They haven't kissed in a _month_ , and it tastes so sweet and tender, like hyacinth and fresh snow and moonlight, so sorrowful yet so kind, his lips warm and careful. Makoto basks in the fleeting moment, where nothing is in the world but the two of them.

The kiss ends too soon, and when they part, Ryoji's smile is as sorrowful as it was before, and he picks up the box on the bed and opens it, revealing a simple silver ring. Before Makoto could ask, he says, "I… I really don't want to, but if you won't give up on me, then neither will I on you. So… I'm sorry, thank you, and goodbye."

_Thank you for loving me. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer. Goodbye, and I hope that we meet again._

_My light. My sun._

Makoto smiles back as the hidden meaning reaches him, and he slips the ring onto his left ring finger without a care in the world. Then, quietly, he murmurs back. "I know."

_I love you._

* * *

Ryoji is there before him, as the Avatar of Death that would herald their fall.

And even like that, a monstrosity with wings black as the void, sword sharp as a demon's tooth, smile sinister as that of the devil, he is still Ryoji. It pains him to fight the one he loves the most.

But what they share is as real as this moment, and he could feel Ryoji's voice whispering in his mind as he puts the Evoker to his head.

He chooses to fight for the future he believes in.

And he will fight… for Ryoji's sake, and he will win.

So, as he pulls the trigger, he calls for the personification of their bond that runs deeper than any he's shared with anyone, the name leaving his lips in a prayer for Ryoji to hear, and for them to finally be free.

" _Thanatos._ "

* * *

Sometimes, he would see a blue butterfly that hovers over his finger before disappearing.

He's tired, so tired, every day a slog. But he wants everyone to remember, to meet upon that roof for the final time, to keep the last promise that they've made together. Nyx is sealed, and soon he'd be drawn into the endless void that is cold and relentless, but he doesn't mind it. It is the price he's willing to pay to keep his memories, to remember his bonds, to remember his love, to remember _him_.

And the butterfly is always there, whenever his heart remembers those soft, warm lips upon his skin, or when he remembers the shimmering blue that reflect the moonlight into his soul and dispel all his worries and fears away. It would fly and perch onto his finger as he lies on his bed, it would touch upon his shoulder as he sits in class, it would fly around him as he draws in breath that is never enough and tries to keep himself standing up through the crushing exhaustion that grows worse by the second.

And when Aigis remembers and talks to him on the fateful day, where they promised to meet each other on the roof, he could see the blue butterfly hovering and perching itself gently on his shoulder, and the soft, kind voice that he has not heard for what feels like an eternity is here, and the voice whispers softly.

_You did good, Makoto. Just a little more._

He smiles as he lets Aigis helps him walk, the bone-deep exhaustion chaining down his limbs and causing every draw of breath to be as painful as running through the Phlegethon river, burning his lungs. But he keeps his emotions levelled as Aigis – so, so _human_ and so _alive_ – takes him up the steps and to the roof, to his final resting place.

And when he lies there, caressed by the warm spring wind and the sunlight, he sees the butterfly takes off and disappears into the breezes, in the direction of the door.

_Sleep well, my sun. I love you._

He smiles, and as his friends run over to him, he lets his eyes slip shut for the last time.

* * *

He is floating.

In the endless void that knows no boundary, he is floating, endlessly being carried away by the windless air and the flowless river of starlight and cosmos. He would often slip back and forth between moments of wakefulness, where he could see his body – _there is a body_ – and the scattering starlight that adorns the horizon like diamonds and rubies and sapphire, and could feel the cold, unforgiving cold that would never leave, that would sink its fang deep into his bones and rattling the warmth out of him.

And when he sleeps, his would dream, of that butterfly, and the piercing blue that shimmer and shine like moonlight on the surface of stilled water.

He isn't sure how long it has been this way, but he doesn't really mind it – the price is worth everything he's fought for. For lives to flourish under the unbending wills of his friends, for the world to continue on – it is something to be celebrated. And even like this, he is alright with it.

This time, much like any, his state of wakefulness is brief and hazy, like looking through the thick fog of the river Lethe that would induce sleep into his mind, the silent, near ethereal flow of the river cold and biting.

Before he could sleep, this time, he sees fading yellow through his muddled vision, and he couldn't say or breathe anything, but he feels those familiar arms around him, and warm breaths in the crook of his neck as—

"I've found you," Ryoji – _oh, it's you, I've missed you –_ says against the drums of drowsiness that thuds in his ears, his body so _warm_ , unlike what he thinks he'd felt before on Earth when he was alive. And his touch is still as gentle as he always is as he continues. "It took me a while, but I've found you."

He couldn't say anything, no matter how much he wants to, as he breathes into the crook of his neck and focuses his gaze on the expanding universe with its diamond-filled blackness and its majesty. He instead thinks the words he wants to say, exchanging his thoughts through his breath as he closes his eyes and exhales into Ryoji's shoulder softly. _I've missed you._

"This isn't what I wanted for you," He says, saddened and sorrowful. "Being the Seal means you'll have to stay like this. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more. I'm sorry it ends like this. You deserve better."

 _So do you,_ is what he thinks as his consciousness starts to slip away, Lethe's gentle touch careful around his fingertips as it slowly draws his mind back into the endless void. He sighs and lets his eyes slip shut.

"I'll be here, right beside you, always," Ryoji promises, and he manages out a hum. _I heard you, I believe you_ , is what he conveys into those words. And Ryoji, always so understanding, laughs lightly before putting the other end of his scarf around Makoto's neck and warms him, protecting him against the cold brush of Lethe as he whispers. "I've left you once. Not again. So sleep tight, now, and I'll see you soon, my sun."

He smiles, and nestles those words close to his heart before his consciousness falls away into the endless sea of stars that will continue to embrace him until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Will probably be some sequel fix-it in the near future, I think? Who knows. Bwahahahahahahahahaha!
> 
> Comments are welcomed! Hope you enjoyed this!


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